Outside on the dam wall
Moles quietly did their dig
Till the whole thing
Got muddy muddy
And went sliding
Sending out the flood flood
Off screen we waited
But he didn't come
We waited
He didn't come
Then it was one for all
Till everyone was being the hero
Boasting words
Boasting solutions
John Waynes one and all
In the corner of the crowded room
An old man sat playing harmonica
An old dancy jig
And as the people heard the tune
The hush descended on the room
And he started on the slow melancholy blues
Losing them all into their souls
When at last he finished
He chuckled with a big nodding smile
As the lights went up
And everyone looked around humble
At the people they were near
The next day
It was the people and the mud
The lost houses
The fear and uncertainty
The care and love and kindness
Where man and women
Knew they were one
And the children didn't bicker
Bound up in one intent
While out on the verge
The old man sat
Smiling and playing
That old Jesus tune
In Poverty
The morning light feeding his soul
As his hand reached in to fetch
Food for his hungry mouth
In that moment
All future, past and present
Welded without anticipation
Of the dissipation of the day
By evening firelight
The man sat squat over the pot
The shadows reaching into his heart
As his young children played
All around his bones
Fatigued muscles strangled
Delusions of hope
Into the contentment of acceptance
She held the skin that stretched tight
Across his bulging muscle
Savouring the power and the warmth
Asking it for everything
The clutter clatter of her mind
Rattled itself weary with worries
As a pain bore into her belly
And she craved his power
In the darkness, his steady, heavy breath
Concealed the wakeful mind
Tangled in the weight of chains
To a love whose need he could not reach
He passed beer and laughter with the men
Revelling in the release and the abandonment
That she mistook, jealously, for happiness
Later sinking words as daggers into his heart
In the darkness, in his abandonment
Her crushing assault on his lightness
Bore from him a desperate childish anger
And she cried out in the night as his fist crashed her face
In the morning, nursing her bruise
She reflected her choices
This price she paid for holding hope
And not surrendering to his defeat
This good and kindly, gentle man
Would give her everything
Beyond his reach
And she was sorry for him too
In the needs musts
As the years passed
And as his body and spirit faded
She found her power and her path
She became the dignity
And he the wretch.
She left to start a store
Selling children's cloths in her father's village
She sent wood for the coffin
On her old uncle's ox cart
And bread for the funeral
But she didn't send herself
Her handsome sons, now nearly men
Listened to the choir
Trying not to know, that in some form
They too would share his fateFlu and Flux
Flu and flux and thanks me ducks
And so she said each day
How love and Lord and lewd
Was forever just her way
Until of course she found herself
Alone upon the way
Beneath an ash tree
Staring up
At drifting clouds
And flickering sun
She reflected on her daily swirl
Among all the people who she knew
She hated and she loved
And felt sad but sort of free
In recognising her own absurdity.Encased in Shame
When the journey takes you to the outer lands
Where the cold works deep into your flesh
And the sun can never penetrate the clouds
You see the shuffling figures
Though you sit there, offering some soup
To the man crouched, blanket wrapped on the kerb
Your kindness, with its warm intent
Is for him, unfeelable
He needs the soup and knows the game
So offers up an awkward smile
A brief exposure of rotted teeth
An indication of the rot within
He knows there is no going back
No place, no person, no inner thing
That can extricate his soul
From the shame it is encased
He is too kind, too respectful
To invite you in to see
The torment of his moments
And besides, he doesn't know the words
The money you gave
Gave him some few moments of release
Worth every penny
Of the shame and pain that then came crashing in
Now you can't go back
I can see it in your eyes
There's no judgement to defend you
From the loneliness that swallows up the skies
The Juju Poison
In scrapes of ink indented on cheap paper
Were sown the seeds, the juju poison
That told the magic power of words of hate
That in each moment palliated the aching heart
Year in, year out until the tree of sorrow grew
Bore its ugly, sickly blossom
And then, now, its toxic fruit
Bringing down to ruin the house of hope
Buckling the knees of its children
In the sad moments of its dissolution
And scattering the love that bound it
Waiting for Some Cunt
Standing up is waiting
You never let me help you with anything
I'm just being an adult
I don't feel in control
You would be better off without me
I don't see why I should have to put up with...
I'm sure if somebody else was watching they would say I was right
I used to look at the world through rose tinted glasses, but not anymore
I can't just turn it back on
Let go of you
Of my home
My children
My hope
Thatcher Might, Fight, Spite,
Thatcher Shite
Thatcher Dead
Thatcher in a posh Ritz bed
Thatcher bollocks is the news
Thatcher bollocks in my head
When, in first knowing of our love, all is possible.
There is celebration, excitement and great joy for all that can now be,
But in the passing of the years and in loves delivery
That which love is not to be, is too, revealed.
Then we stand naked and opposite each other
In a space of light and white mist
Bodies bumpy and ravaged by our lives and time
And, as we stare at each other, there is the question to ask:
With all that this person has been and has now become
Does my heart reach out with love's kindness, tenderness and desire?
And if yes can this be expressed
Or have the bruising years of life and learning
Hid the the trust that shelters our tender cherished souls
And, if that being so, do we open the door to loneliness and loss?
Is it to be a time of grieving and mourning of betrayal?
As the dead betray the living, do we in fear betray the bonds of love?
Will our children weep at the wake?
And who will touch our still warm ghosts
With hearts that still carry the fragments of each other
As we walk alone the barren plains in search of hope and love
Until, in proximity of death's uncertainty we are, though parted,
Still the best and closest that we have to share what all this life has been?
For some cunt to knock you down
Thats a toddlers learning
And a lesson learned too well
And I'm not playing the game
Of blaming him
Or her
Or him
But still there was and is a little me
Standing safely is easy
You just do it in a dream
With friends who help to make it real
But then they go away
I don't believe in dreams now
And I don't play with friends
I don't try to stand
That's just waiting
For some cunt to knock you down
She Reclaims Herself
coming in on a winter night
the battle wearied warrior
with wounds still bleeding
and spirits floored
in the desolation of defeat
seeks solace in the arms of his wife
but jaded by the years of absence
in such futile pursuit
and despising him
his victoryless return
she shuns him
preferring her sour ruminations
on the sorry nature of her lot
to the weary work
for love she can not feel
of nursing back to strength
the power of the man
and the sharp blade of her renunciation
cuts deeper into his flesh
than all the sword and dagger points he'd met
then emboldened by his fallen crest
she raises her head in new found pride
unneeding and unwanting this dismembered man
as in the shrivelling of her passions
she seeks the sisterhood of crones.
now haughty in her bold release
from bonds crafted in ritual words
with which she'd held him through the years
as babies, now all nearly men
crawled from her fertile belly
holding them both transfixed
in their urgency of need
and the fascinating unfolding of their youth
she wonders, with that distant curiosity
accorded a spider consuming a living fly
the sights and sounds of his bereavement
as if he were nothing to her
and now in no way of her
To Wendy
Amid the din of worry and weariness
Can you hear your heart
Can you hear it tell of its desires
Past the chatter of the duties
Or do you not listen
In case you hear it
Demanding of you courage
To free you from your sadness
Walk alone along the shore
With the sand hot between your toes
Sit in the shade of palms
To feel where your heart is
With courage and joy
Be with your heart
Shape your world to yourself
Fear not, all will be glad for you
Can you hear your heart
Can you hear it tell of its desires
Past the chatter of the duties
Or do you not listen
In case you hear it
Demanding of you courage
To free you from your sadness
Walk alone along the shore
With the sand hot between your toes
Sit in the shade of palms
To feel where your heart is
With courage and joy
Be with your heart
Shape your world to yourself
Fear not, all will be glad for you
The Death of Love
You stand over me
The sharp long knife is in your hand
I can feel the prick of the point on my chest
I am looking up into your face
Your face has a look of concern
You are telling me that this is good for me
I am scared, and I want to believe you
I just want to know you're not mad
I want to know I'm not mad
I want you to let me in
One last time
Passed everything into the stillness
Of two souls, in naked fearless honesty
I am begging for even a flicker
Then I can believe you
Instead comes the crushing searing pain
And the gasping, desperation
Not from fear of the act of dying
But because you have betrayed my hope
That we could resolve the fear
That I would consume you
Or that you would consume me
If we ever entrusted our souls to each other
And in the eternal moments
As the memories and meanings
Flow from my fading form
I remember that I always knew
And how you scared me
If I looked into your eyes
When we made love.
How we would let each other
Take each other
But never give ourselves to each other
How each time it killed me
And though after I would hold you,
I just wanted to run from you,
Disgusted by ourselves
Until I leaned to know that sordid aloneness
And to sort of like it
But always with the fear of being consumed by it,
Until my preference for nightly solitude
Became guilty lovelessness
For which I surrendered to your reproaches
Called every name, after every failing
Except the truth,
That I was not your man.
And I buried the aloneness
Pretended it was in me
Until all I had was self loathing.
Even as my breath faded
And blood gurgled in my throat
I was trying to reach to you
To tell you,
To hold you
To smother you in kisses
To cry with you
To finally be with you
But it was too late
She Told Herself...
Your such a good arguer. you always win
You always have the last word
Falling
Where to hold
To stop that free fall
Thatcher
Thatcher ite
Thatcher Right
Awakening
The poet cried loss,
Celebrated orgasm
And toyed with wonder,
While the story teller grew,
Became the elder cousin
Beckoning immersion in ideas
Through subjective experience,
Before film makers invented living dreams
Buried in the myths of fantasy
We each could feel the clawing touch
Of friendly monsters vying for our material soul.
As we huddled in fear and comfort
In shrouds of chloroform,
While the TV told stories of dread
That drifted in callous order
From those other worlds beyond
Turning us to zombie soldiers
In the puppet masters eerie dream.
In flickering lonely moments
We each struggled to awake
And to reach the hand of another concious soul,
But even as we did so
We returned again to slumber
Dreaming of shared dreams
While still we folded back,
Playing our part in the nightmare
Of cotton wool cuddled living death
Beneath the puppet masters strings.
Then came the cold, cold rain
That splashed our naked bodies
In the dark void where we lay
In our billions across the empty ground.
Emerging from our anaesthesia
We cried, lost, lonely frightened tears
Until all the world was full of wailing
And all the wailing became our unity.
Unnoticed, the mountain's shadows formed
Until with breathtaking surprise
The dazzle of sunlight screamed into our eyes
And all fell silent.
We stood there, dazed
And gazed uncomprehending
At the vast and vulnerable vision
Of our billions of bodies.
We each of us were one;
One and yet some billionths of one.
The sun that shone and warmed our flesh
Warmed and touched all our flesh
The moment's meanings stumbled in harmony
Though billions of befuddled brains.
A curious child ran through the throng
With arms outstretched
Touching the flesh of all she passed
Giving tangible meaning to the moment
And with the touch came laughter
That infected, until everywhere
People touched and laughed
And hugged and gazed with awe
And love into each others comprehending eyes.
The poet cried loss,
Celebrated orgasm
And toyed with wonder,
While the story teller grew,
Became the elder cousin
Beckoning immersion in ideas
Through subjective experience,
Before film makers invented living dreams
Buried in the myths of fantasy
We each could feel the clawing touch
Of friendly monsters vying for our material soul.
As we huddled in fear and comfort
In shrouds of chloroform,
While the TV told stories of dread
That drifted in callous order
From those other worlds beyond
Turning us to zombie soldiers
In the puppet masters eerie dream.
In flickering lonely moments
We each struggled to awake
And to reach the hand of another concious soul,
But even as we did so
We returned again to slumber
Dreaming of shared dreams
While still we folded back,
Playing our part in the nightmare
Of cotton wool cuddled living death
Beneath the puppet masters strings.
Then came the cold, cold rain
That splashed our naked bodies
In the dark void where we lay
In our billions across the empty ground.
Emerging from our anaesthesia
We cried, lost, lonely frightened tears
Until all the world was full of wailing
And all the wailing became our unity.
Unnoticed, the mountain's shadows formed
Until with breathtaking surprise
The dazzle of sunlight screamed into our eyes
And all fell silent.
We stood there, dazed
And gazed uncomprehending
At the vast and vulnerable vision
Of our billions of bodies.
We each of us were one;
One and yet some billionths of one.
The sun that shone and warmed our flesh
Warmed and touched all our flesh
The moment's meanings stumbled in harmony
Though billions of befuddled brains.
A curious child ran through the throng
With arms outstretched
Touching the flesh of all she passed
Giving tangible meaning to the moment
And with the touch came laughter
That infected, until everywhere
People touched and laughed
And hugged and gazed with awe
And love into each others comprehending eyes.
Once Upon a Time...
The young settlers came to the land. A few had small children, but most were new couples bound and excited by the dream of the new life they were making for themselves. Each couple had a wagon loaded with food and tools and pulled by a single pony. The world was new and theirs to make.
First came the clearing of trees and scrub and the driving of ploughs into virgin ground, with all the frustrating, back breaking removal of stones the task entailed. When the seeds were in the ground, each family turned to building a home from the timber they had felled and by the time of the first harvest smoke rose from stoves and up the stone chimneys that sided up the cabins.
As the homesteads grew, field by field, so too did the families. Wells were sunk, pumps installed, sheds built and fences put up to contain animals and to set the boundaries. Soon clay pits were being dug and furnaces constructed to fire the mountain of bricks needed for the big project: the building of the family home.
As the children grew up, so the parents grew wrinkled in the sun and by the time the first grand children were born the tiredness of age was setting in and so the work passed to another generation. The life work of the old folks was written into the land and was their blessing to their children, who in acknowledgement would build them small cottages and share with them the fruits of their work.
Now though, the numbers had increased and not all could hope to live simply from the land, but there was much work to be done. Some specialised in building, some in making furniture, others in making clothes and others in making tools and pots and all the other things for which there was a need. The food that came for the land always found mouths to feed and the prosperity of the community grew as each played their part.
One family though did not build for its future, but instead would help others in their endeavours in return for a share in the proceeds. Soon their call on a share of the product of the work of others grew and grew and they were able to stop working and live in ease and comfort. When people saw this they were not angry, but thought that they too should do the same. Soon every family was spending at least some of its time and resources on the endeavours of others and waiting and expecting to be able to do less in the future.
To start with this all worked well and the prosperity of the community grew, but soon there were more and more people who were living on the efforts of others and tasks were neglected as the ones who were working struggled to meet their obligations. When the next generation of children grew up, they did not inherit the means to have a prosperous life as their parents had done, but instead inherited obligations to people who not only did nothing useful, but who also considered themselves better.
As they struggled to meet their obligations, many of the young people had to go cap in hand to renegotiate how they could repay their debt. The offer made was always the same: give us your farm, give us your business and we will pay you a living wage for your work.
Soon most of the land and businesses belonged to a few families who quickly realised that if they paid less wages and gave credit in their stores they could ensure that no-one would ever be free of their debts. As people became more desperate they worked harder and longer and took on more and more debt. For the few families living on their labour it didn't matter that peoples' health was declining, or that they were dying younger. It didn't matter that the wells were becoming silted up or that the houses were leaking for lack of maintenance. It didn't even matter that the trees were all being felled to keep people warm in houses with broken windows.
The once prosperous community became a dusty desert when one year the rains failed. Many people packed up their few belongings and left. The rich families were unconcerned and went to the bank in the city, lodging the deeds on their property as collateral for loans until times improved. When once again the rains failed they could not make their payments and the bankers made loans to their friends in the city who bought them out at a very low price. The businessmen arrived to inspect their new acquisition. The next day contractors knocked down all the buildings, filled in the wells and tore down the sagging fences. Everything that could be sold was sold and this repaid their bank loan. A new barbed wire fence was put up around the land and then they left. The businessmen had their holding valued as a cattle stock ranch and put it up as collateral on a loan to buy out another community that had sold its birth right for a dream.
In shanty towns, squatted around the city, people recalled the hopeful world of their grandparents and reflected on the misery of debt. How could so much be owed by so many to so few? How could the balance of obligations of one person to another become so out of balance that it could be used to enslave and impoverish, not the one who was rich and idle, but the one whose back braking labour produced all that was worth having? The value of the obligations was clearly wrong. If the debt was so big it could not be repaid and yet there was nothing to show for the debt, then crookery and deceit were afoot. If I help my friend, they reasoned, I would expect him to help me if he could, but I take the risk that he might not. I don't assume some right to him for eternity, but if in future he asks for more help, but has failed to help me when I needed it when I think he could have done, I chalk it up to experience and do not count him my friend. However, if he were the only person who knew how to help me then I would have little choice but to accept an imbalance of obligations. It is therefore my ignorance and unknowing of choices that enslaves me.
Then they considered the obligations to their elderly parents who had raised them. If each generation worked to ease the burden upon the next, then each generation would justify its time in retirement, but if any generation chose instead to work only for their own enrichment and left their children with hardship they could not expect comfort in retirement, for all we ever have is the product of our current labours. If a father surrenders his house to his son in return for a comfortable retirement, but the house is in disrepair, the father must expect less than if the house does not demand the time and resources of the son.
First came the clearing of trees and scrub and the driving of ploughs into virgin ground, with all the frustrating, back breaking removal of stones the task entailed. When the seeds were in the ground, each family turned to building a home from the timber they had felled and by the time of the first harvest smoke rose from stoves and up the stone chimneys that sided up the cabins.
As the homesteads grew, field by field, so too did the families. Wells were sunk, pumps installed, sheds built and fences put up to contain animals and to set the boundaries. Soon clay pits were being dug and furnaces constructed to fire the mountain of bricks needed for the big project: the building of the family home.
As the children grew up, so the parents grew wrinkled in the sun and by the time the first grand children were born the tiredness of age was setting in and so the work passed to another generation. The life work of the old folks was written into the land and was their blessing to their children, who in acknowledgement would build them small cottages and share with them the fruits of their work.
Now though, the numbers had increased and not all could hope to live simply from the land, but there was much work to be done. Some specialised in building, some in making furniture, others in making clothes and others in making tools and pots and all the other things for which there was a need. The food that came for the land always found mouths to feed and the prosperity of the community grew as each played their part.
One family though did not build for its future, but instead would help others in their endeavours in return for a share in the proceeds. Soon their call on a share of the product of the work of others grew and grew and they were able to stop working and live in ease and comfort. When people saw this they were not angry, but thought that they too should do the same. Soon every family was spending at least some of its time and resources on the endeavours of others and waiting and expecting to be able to do less in the future.
To start with this all worked well and the prosperity of the community grew, but soon there were more and more people who were living on the efforts of others and tasks were neglected as the ones who were working struggled to meet their obligations. When the next generation of children grew up, they did not inherit the means to have a prosperous life as their parents had done, but instead inherited obligations to people who not only did nothing useful, but who also considered themselves better.
As they struggled to meet their obligations, many of the young people had to go cap in hand to renegotiate how they could repay their debt. The offer made was always the same: give us your farm, give us your business and we will pay you a living wage for your work.
Soon most of the land and businesses belonged to a few families who quickly realised that if they paid less wages and gave credit in their stores they could ensure that no-one would ever be free of their debts. As people became more desperate they worked harder and longer and took on more and more debt. For the few families living on their labour it didn't matter that peoples' health was declining, or that they were dying younger. It didn't matter that the wells were becoming silted up or that the houses were leaking for lack of maintenance. It didn't even matter that the trees were all being felled to keep people warm in houses with broken windows.
The once prosperous community became a dusty desert when one year the rains failed. Many people packed up their few belongings and left. The rich families were unconcerned and went to the bank in the city, lodging the deeds on their property as collateral for loans until times improved. When once again the rains failed they could not make their payments and the bankers made loans to their friends in the city who bought them out at a very low price. The businessmen arrived to inspect their new acquisition. The next day contractors knocked down all the buildings, filled in the wells and tore down the sagging fences. Everything that could be sold was sold and this repaid their bank loan. A new barbed wire fence was put up around the land and then they left. The businessmen had their holding valued as a cattle stock ranch and put it up as collateral on a loan to buy out another community that had sold its birth right for a dream.
In shanty towns, squatted around the city, people recalled the hopeful world of their grandparents and reflected on the misery of debt. How could so much be owed by so many to so few? How could the balance of obligations of one person to another become so out of balance that it could be used to enslave and impoverish, not the one who was rich and idle, but the one whose back braking labour produced all that was worth having? The value of the obligations was clearly wrong. If the debt was so big it could not be repaid and yet there was nothing to show for the debt, then crookery and deceit were afoot. If I help my friend, they reasoned, I would expect him to help me if he could, but I take the risk that he might not. I don't assume some right to him for eternity, but if in future he asks for more help, but has failed to help me when I needed it when I think he could have done, I chalk it up to experience and do not count him my friend. However, if he were the only person who knew how to help me then I would have little choice but to accept an imbalance of obligations. It is therefore my ignorance and unknowing of choices that enslaves me.
Then they considered the obligations to their elderly parents who had raised them. If each generation worked to ease the burden upon the next, then each generation would justify its time in retirement, but if any generation chose instead to work only for their own enrichment and left their children with hardship they could not expect comfort in retirement, for all we ever have is the product of our current labours. If a father surrenders his house to his son in return for a comfortable retirement, but the house is in disrepair, the father must expect less than if the house does not demand the time and resources of the son.
Dimiti
Dimiti? Dimiti. Dimiti died on the end of her hopes
At twenty she'd seen nothing and had seen it all
The stars had lined up on the day of her birth
Given her gifts the jealous would cry for
She was quick and she was witty
Needless to say she was pretty
Her Dad was a bright young lawyer
Her beautiful mother had a beautiful mind
Blessed? She was blessed
But life can be so contrary and so unkind
The scars on her parents weren't there to see
Just etched in their minds telling how they should be
The depressions bitter poverty, the trauma of war
Prejudice and bigotry and emotional suppression
Leave stains on the soul that make love uneasy
For her mother and father to love
And love as a mother and father should be
To let the blessed child love herself and feel free
As if all that wasn't the challenge to curse
Her brother's disconnect mind made it worse
From the first she'd helped him, filled in the gaps
Letting her play child play in the plight of his mind
Until school tore her away and made her betray him
Leaving him starving and alone and lost in his mind
But Dimiti, Dimiti rose to the fore
As with the strains of seven children
And one lost out in his world
Her beautiful mother lost her beautiful mind
Only eight she shone as a mother
Caring and cooking and cleaning for them all
Sadly then there was no going back
How could she believe in the parents she'd saved
How could she trust in their fragile love
Who could know the price she'd paid
Now she was caught between wishing and knowing
A spark of creative love, fading inside, but still glowing
There was beauty in her every move
Brilliance in her artistic touch
A power of aspiration and courage
Seeking truth in sensuality
Beauty and the eloquence of horses
And for her strangeness feeling a fool
The need for love, the love she could not give herself
Took her to people and places
Where only her courage and fading power could protect her
And when that protection failed
She was mugged of her brilliance
And left wallowing in woman's silent wounds
And still the light was fading
But less than ordered life demands
Her dazzle now a crumbling, crying fury
Reckless, despairing, hopeless
Urging love to hold her and protect her
From the crying, dying self trembling within
Dimiti, Dimiti Dimiti died on the end of her hope
Twenty years old and married
Dimiti Dimiti Dimiti died on the end of a rope
At twenty she had seen and been too much
Vibrant beautiful and wild
But still at heart she was just a lonely child
At twenty she'd seen nothing and had seen it all
The stars had lined up on the day of her birth
Given her gifts the jealous would cry for
She was quick and she was witty
Needless to say she was pretty
Her Dad was a bright young lawyer
Her beautiful mother had a beautiful mind
Blessed? She was blessed
But life can be so contrary and so unkind
The scars on her parents weren't there to see
Just etched in their minds telling how they should be
The depressions bitter poverty, the trauma of war
Prejudice and bigotry and emotional suppression
Leave stains on the soul that make love uneasy
For her mother and father to love
And love as a mother and father should be
To let the blessed child love herself and feel free
As if all that wasn't the challenge to curse
Her brother's disconnect mind made it worse
From the first she'd helped him, filled in the gaps
Letting her play child play in the plight of his mind
Until school tore her away and made her betray him
Leaving him starving and alone and lost in his mind
But Dimiti, Dimiti rose to the fore
As with the strains of seven children
And one lost out in his world
Her beautiful mother lost her beautiful mind
Only eight she shone as a mother
Caring and cooking and cleaning for them all
Sadly then there was no going back
How could she believe in the parents she'd saved
How could she trust in their fragile love
Who could know the price she'd paid
Now she was caught between wishing and knowing
A spark of creative love, fading inside, but still glowing
There was beauty in her every move
Brilliance in her artistic touch
A power of aspiration and courage
Seeking truth in sensuality
Beauty and the eloquence of horses
And for her strangeness feeling a fool
The need for love, the love she could not give herself
Took her to people and places
Where only her courage and fading power could protect her
And when that protection failed
She was mugged of her brilliance
And left wallowing in woman's silent wounds
And still the light was fading
But less than ordered life demands
Her dazzle now a crumbling, crying fury
Reckless, despairing, hopeless
Urging love to hold her and protect her
From the crying, dying self trembling within
Dimiti, Dimiti Dimiti died on the end of her hope
Twenty years old and married
Dimiti Dimiti Dimiti died on the end of a rope
At twenty she had seen and been too much
Vibrant beautiful and wild
But still at heart she was just a lonely child
On Working in a Supermarket
Lives belied by hideous commitment
To the practical and soul concealing.
Finding validation in false expression
Of care, love and dedication
To the callous detail of a corporate mission.
Caught in a dance of mutual mutilation
Colleagues delight
In goals set and targets met
Lending the humanity of their vulnerability
To the algorithm driven rhythm
Of the money-lust machine
To the practical and soul concealing.
Finding validation in false expression
Of care, love and dedication
To the callous detail of a corporate mission.
Caught in a dance of mutual mutilation
Colleagues delight
In goals set and targets met
Lending the humanity of their vulnerability
To the algorithm driven rhythm
Of the money-lust machine
Call For Our Children
When you call for our children
To go to fight in your wars
We'll listen to your reason-lies
And for all the love we ever gave
We'll bury fears in pride
As we share our last hugs and sad goodbyes.
Perhaps it gives us some relief
From the guilt and complicity we feel
For the years we told them lies
Of all the chances and choices
That would be their blessing
For doing well at school and college
When all the while in our hearts
We always feared our doubts
To go to fight in your wars
We'll listen to your reason-lies
And for all the love we ever gave
We'll bury fears in pride
As we share our last hugs and sad goodbyes.
Perhaps it gives us some relief
From the guilt and complicity we feel
For the years we told them lies
Of all the chances and choices
That would be their blessing
For doing well at school and college
When all the while in our hearts
We always feared our doubts
The Universal Capitalist
I'll take on the burden
Of your Hunger and your Greed
I'll play your fears against you
To tell you what you need
Greed and Hunger have become
The hallmarks of my soul
As I use the power you give me
For absolute control
I know that you would like it
If I did care and share
But that's not the nature of the hit
In which you are you are ensnared
So please don't feel guilty
For the ones I leave to starve
Or the ones that I make slaves
So you can enjoy your ease and laughs
I know I might do more
To protect this precious world
But that's the price I'm willing
For you to have to pay
As I see the opportunities
In your fear and your despair
I'm the universal capitalist
And frankly darling
I can't and couldn't care
I'll take on the burden
Of your Hunger and your Greed
I'll play your fears against you
To tell you what you need
Greed and Hunger have become
The hallmarks of my soul
As I use the power you give me
For absolute control
I know that you would like it
If I did care and share
But that's not the nature of the hit
In which you are you are ensnared
So please don't feel guilty
For the ones I leave to starve
Or the ones that I make slaves
So you can enjoy your ease and laughs
I know I might do more
To protect this precious world
But that's the price I'm willing
For you to have to pay
As I see the opportunities
In your fear and your despair
I'm the universal capitalist
And frankly darling
I can't and couldn't care
Foreboding
Cycles of forebode:
Mind mist
Faded Images
Of a looming moment
Weighed with fear
Of a crushing defeat.
And so a rush to safety
Comfort coffee
Cigarette
And chatter to chain the mind
In symbols of a worse presentment
To shrink the fear to containable form.
And so to task, with success marked
Not with joy
But dread averted.
So forms and shapes each day
Until the weariness
Of each repetition
Colludes with the foreboding
To emerge as pessimistic fatalism
From which death would seem release
With only a faint wistful hunger
To call upon some lost remembered
Sense of sensuous joy
Moments bought now
With the fug of wine
Where for some few seconds
Living seems relived
Before realisation of the mucky dissipation
Of energy and conciousness
There is no loving this
Nor forgiveness
To be delivered
As daily milk upon the doorstep
Only the steady drizzle
Of reproachment
That excludes rapprochement
For to this sinful cycle
Can be credited all the causes
Of tasks undone, hopes faded
Worries burdened
And blessings not received
Voilà the foreboding was well founded
For now I am cast out
A lesser being
Diseased
Untrustable
Untouchable
Beyond hope
Or being the cause of hope
Kept for guilt or habit
In a cage of quiet resentment
Justified by a faithless hope
For reform, recovery and change
Now again I am lying in my malaria bed
From which I can only rise by my own offices
To look at you, to you, is to doubt myself
Your lovelessness to me a reminder
Of the fallen wretch I must have become
Deserving not love,but reproach
Self hatred is my solidarity with you
If only I can put myself beyond self care
Maybe I can withstand surrender of the self
And so make my body your servant absolute
To so find absolution.
I am awake from delirium in the early morning darkness
And climb out of bed, dress and run outside
As the dawn's mists become wrapped in grey light
Around a heavy oak encircled with dew glistening grass
Morning nausea competes with the tart chill and the visual delights
For a grasp upon my mood as if wrestling for my spirit
Fear wrestles with vitality
In some distortion of the life saving purpose
Of flight or fright
Mind mist
Faded Images
Of a looming moment
Weighed with fear
Of a crushing defeat.
And so a rush to safety
Comfort coffee
Cigarette
And chatter to chain the mind
In symbols of a worse presentment
To shrink the fear to containable form.
And so to task, with success marked
Not with joy
But dread averted.
So forms and shapes each day
Until the weariness
Of each repetition
Colludes with the foreboding
To emerge as pessimistic fatalism
From which death would seem release
With only a faint wistful hunger
To call upon some lost remembered
Sense of sensuous joy
Moments bought now
With the fug of wine
Where for some few seconds
Living seems relived
Before realisation of the mucky dissipation
Of energy and conciousness
There is no loving this
Nor forgiveness
To be delivered
As daily milk upon the doorstep
Only the steady drizzle
Of reproachment
That excludes rapprochement
For to this sinful cycle
Can be credited all the causes
Of tasks undone, hopes faded
Worries burdened
And blessings not received
Voilà the foreboding was well founded
For now I am cast out
A lesser being
Diseased
Untrustable
Untouchable
Beyond hope
Or being the cause of hope
Kept for guilt or habit
In a cage of quiet resentment
Justified by a faithless hope
For reform, recovery and change
Now again I am lying in my malaria bed
From which I can only rise by my own offices
To look at you, to you, is to doubt myself
Your lovelessness to me a reminder
Of the fallen wretch I must have become
Deserving not love,but reproach
Self hatred is my solidarity with you
If only I can put myself beyond self care
Maybe I can withstand surrender of the self
And so make my body your servant absolute
To so find absolution.
I am awake from delirium in the early morning darkness
And climb out of bed, dress and run outside
As the dawn's mists become wrapped in grey light
Around a heavy oak encircled with dew glistening grass
Morning nausea competes with the tart chill and the visual delights
For a grasp upon my mood as if wrestling for my spirit
Fear wrestles with vitality
In some distortion of the life saving purpose
Of flight or fright
Faith and Me
Looking back I can see that I was doin' fine just on my own
Then I met Ambition
Ambition said “work hard and get yourself a home
So I was working hard, and they said I was doin' well
But that was when Worry came sideling up to me
Back then Worry was just a slip of a thing and wanted to be my friend
Reminding me of all the things I needed to do
With Worries help there was no telling where I'd go
So I started living with Worry and Worry grew big and fat
Worry was a bitch and always on my case
She'd wake me in the night and nag so I couldn't sleep
One night I couldn't face her so I called around on Drink
I said c'mon Drink What you got to say
And he said “Worries a bitch – what you livin' with her for anyway
Come out with me, we can have some real fun,
I'll help you get your ole self back”
Then Drink and me were buddies and we told Worry
Go and don't come back.
Now it wasn't long after that that I got the sack
I said to Drink “Now look what you done”
And that was when Drink introduced me to Despair
Despair was mean and she was ugly
But she was always there and I was never alone
She sat with me as I slept out on the street
And she drained me with her kiss
Then up I got one morning
The birds were singing
And the sun was shining warm
I looked down on Despair and her cruel ugly face
And I smiled my own true smile and got up and walked away
Then out there in the park where dew was on the grass
From behind a tree as the sunlight warmed the day
Came a sight of beauty that reached into my heart
She came gentle and fearless toward me
Smiling straight into my eyes
“I'm Faith”, She said simply
And took me by my hand and walked me to the hilltop
All around us was the world and its ten billion different dreams
“Their ours” She said “We just got to hold to each other then their ours”
For a moment I revelled in the joy then panic filled my soul
And I ran back to the safety of cruel, ugly, loyal sweet despair
She wrapped me in her greedy jealous arms and firmly held me there
But the vision of Faith was like a fire smouldering within me
And each time the sun was shining I would go and seek her out
And each time she was there for me with beauty and her purity
I thought maybe I'd trust her and stayed with her in the rain
Despair was angry and shouted and hit me when I told her
I did not want to see her ever ever again
But Faith and me were a number
I was so proud of her I went and told all my friends
Faith promised She would stay with me if she knew that I was true
She said lets make a baby
A lovely baby girl and we were so excited
We decided we would call her Hope and together we would rise
And fill our lives with love to change the meaning of the world
But even as the baby grew inside her the voices of my past came crowding back
Worry said I shouldn't trust her
Drink said he and Faith were rivals
And Despair said Faith would only let me down
And introduced me to Doubt with his no-nonsence common sense
Doubt took me aside to tell me it as it is -
Faith was irresponsible, impractical and feckless
He told me I was a waster who had nothing
Soon She would come to her senses and see me for who I was
What he said was true, so true and I just wanted to cry
But I wasn't going back to Despair
So I just hung out with Drink
Until Faith caught me!
She stood there, her belly filled with Hope and with tears in her eyes
I tried to make excuses and beg her for forgiveness
But She ran off
I tried to follow, but stumbled in my wobbly state
When at last I found her
She was crying and bleeding
And Hope was still-born in her arms.
The Loss of Trust and Love's Betrayal
When, in first knowing of our love, all is possible.
There is celebration, excitement and great joy for all that can now be,
But in the passing of the years and in loves delivery
That which love is not to be, is too, revealed.
Then we stand naked and opposite each other
In a space of light and white mist
Bodies bumpy and ravaged by our lives and time
And, as we stare at each other, there is the question to ask:
With all that this person has been and has now become
Does my heart reach out with love's kindness, tenderness and desire?
And if yes can this be expressed
Or have the bruising years of life and learning
Hid the the trust that shelters our tender cherished souls
And, if that being so, do we open the door to loneliness and loss?
Is it to be a time of grieving and mourning of betrayal?
As the dead betray the living, do we in fear betray the bonds of love?
Will our children weep at the wake?
And who will touch our still warm ghosts
With hearts that still carry the fragments of each other
As we walk alone the barren plains in search of hope and love
Until, in proximity of death's uncertainty we are, though parted,
Still the best and closest that we have to share what all this life has been?
I don't not not not not not not never love you
I don't not love you
I didn't not want you to come
I don;t not want to stay together
I don't not have trouble being positive
I have trouble being positive
I want to stay together
I wanted you to come
I love you
Is a lie easier with double negatives
As in
I don't not not not not not not never love you
As you lie in bed
Thoughts from feelings
Buzzing in your head
Seeking resolution
What do you hear said
I wish he would go
I wish I would die
I am so tired of this
I just want to be free
Is that more true?
Are they the words I wish he'd hear
Oh why did I marry, marry him
I didn't not want you to come
I don;t not want to stay together
I don't not have trouble being positive
I have trouble being positive
I want to stay together
I wanted you to come
I love you
Is a lie easier with double negatives
As in
I don't not not not not not not never love you
As you lie in bed
Thoughts from feelings
Buzzing in your head
Seeking resolution
What do you hear said
I wish he would go
I wish I would die
I am so tired of this
I just want to be free
Is that more true?
Are they the words I wish he'd hear
Oh why did I marry, marry him
I Try Speaking Your Heart
(because you wont)
In my house is a balding fat guilt bogey
With tobacco stained fingers and smokey breath
A twisted nose and rotten teeth
Who's full of anger and sullen resentment
And lives in his lair of smelly neglect
He creeps out to see my children off to school
He walks my dog,
He cleans my dishes
He washes my cloths
He runs my errands
He cooks my food
And then he returns to his pit
The guilt bogey creeps into my world
Shouting and screaming like a caged animal
Its my world and I don't want him there
My world of early mornings when all are sleeping
Cycling to work in the chill of the morning
My world of people I work with
My world of my friends, my patients
My lovely children, My dog, My Aunt,
My trips to London, My bedroom retreat.
Then there is the world I share with the guilt bogey
The dark world of debts and dirt
And half done, undone jobs
And a cat who pees on the shower mat
Fuck him and his sodding depression
Screwed up family crap and ugly face
I have a right to be able to make my life work
I'm not his mother or therapist
I don't need him and all his revolting neediness
Can't he just shrivel up, fuck off
Leave me alone, or just sort himself out
I can't do it for him and I wont be blamed
Its not my fault he's a useless half drunk stinking waste of space
I can't pretend I love him
I can't pretend I want to help him
When if I even talk to him he twists words with anger
Leaving me weak, angry, tearful and trapped
I wish I felt stronger and could face it on my own
Could face Leon and Conna
Tell them their Dad is going away
I wish I could face him with all his anger and shit
While we clear out the house and sell it
I just want a life that works
Not this.
Could I have stopped him from becoming this
Is he my fault
Do I deserve this guilt
I knew long ago his weakness
It was what in him I feared and could never love
I could never let him crumple
Could never let him cry and give him safety
It scared me to much
But it was his weakness
It is not my fault
Its strange, I don't even miss him
Sometimes I remember what I loved in him
But its like remembering an apple before it rotted
Or the summer sunshine on a day of winter rain
Now is all that is real and there is nothing to miss or want
Is it true I tried to help him
He didn't want remedies or counselling
Nor anything I would suggest
I talked so often and for hours
And heard his endless words
Until he twisted his troubles to my fault
So that I was left guilty tearful dried up and trapped
How could it be my fault
In my heart I know the truth
And for that I feel guilt
There was so much I could forgive
So much that I could love
But the weakness in his spirit
So strange to me in a man
Revolted me
And I have watched it grow
Corrupting him as he tried to bury it
In words and pointless plans and dreams
And knowing all the world's bad and evil
To be a place to put his anger
At all he isn't and hasn't got the guts to be
I have watched him drink and smoke his body to decay
And hide in spluttering duvet snores rather than face the day
Then blame me. Fuck him.
I am weary
"I am weary
When I look into my baby's eyes
When She's near me
Is when I realise
There's no room for regret
True love tends to forget"
(Bob Dylan)
In these times we share
When some weariness
And some worry
Clouds our daily lot
Should we not in kindness
And soft gentility
Be giving to one another
Words and small deeds
That show our depth of care
Small joys to give
Now we no more
Explore passionate entwines
In intimate release
For what is the fruit
Of piling further burdens
And smearing spirit sapping stains
On memories moments and tomorrow
But the fruit of sadness and regret
Have the years told us nothing
That there is no trust
In neither love nor purpose
When the subject of our worries
Are the children of our love
And our sincerity of purpose
But with no seal of kindness
Constant in its care
No forgiveness
Nor eyes for the good
We must be, each to the other
A ball around the foot
When I look into my baby's eyes
When She's near me
Is when I realise
There's no room for regret
True love tends to forget"
(Bob Dylan)
In these times we share
When some weariness
And some worry
Clouds our daily lot
Should we not in kindness
And soft gentility
Be giving to one another
Words and small deeds
That show our depth of care
Small joys to give
Now we no more
Explore passionate entwines
In intimate release
For what is the fruit
Of piling further burdens
And smearing spirit sapping stains
On memories moments and tomorrow
But the fruit of sadness and regret
Have the years told us nothing
That there is no trust
In neither love nor purpose
When the subject of our worries
Are the children of our love
And our sincerity of purpose
But with no seal of kindness
Constant in its care
No forgiveness
Nor eyes for the good
We must be, each to the other
A ball around the foot
FREEDOM'S PROMISE
You left me slowly in the quiet of the morning
When grey dawn shivered through the glass
No bird song, just the silence and my snoring
As you gathered up your love
You left me at the dinner table
While family chatter was ablaze
You were radiating the spirit of your love
But left me in the shade
When you'd left me you could feel
An old strength coursing through your blood
An ancient spirit rising
And freedoms promise shining
But as you tried to stride out to your dreams
You felt the chains around your feet
The wrecks of lives and loves you'd known
Of your dad and mum and me
Tree of Hate
Can we ease the strain
Let love in once more
End these ping pong prods of pain
To let the rays of hope flood through the door
Shall it be in sickness guilt and sorrow
Or shall it never come
Shall it be in fear for worse tomorrow
Can it be true that all our love is done
Did I see you creep into the garden
To plant the tree of hate
Do I need to grovel on my knees for pardon
Then will you rip it from its roots or is it even now too late
I heard you say sorry for a guilt you never felt
I heard you say sorry to make my anger melt
But I never thought you understood
And in truth I never felt you thought you should
There is not a thing within my gift
Nor consideration I could be offering
That can be the the healer of our rift
Now you see so much advantage in my going
You have your truths all carved in stone
Your history writ as witness to certainties it suits to own
So that from a place in you that is not that strong
You can leap forth fortified by challenging my wrong
Do I recall you come to me as wife
With a true will to help me build the power of my life
Or do I recall more jealousy's resentment
That my cup not yours might be filled with sweet success's sentiment
And was I not always a weakened fragile man
Full of fears and doubts and shadows
Prone to boasts, pride and arrogant speech
To hide the action empty state I'd reached
So why not sneer, why not condemn
This snivelling sorry apology for man
Let him and his rotten teeth, his smokey drunken breath and snores
Dissolve in the acid resentment that comes seething from my pores
Oh, but this is not me, I'm not like that
A cruel hag in pointed hat
I'm nice, good, kind and right
I do more than dress as duties knight
Though he does not work, for the children's sake
I'll let him stay to wash, and cook and bake
To earn the money that we need I'll work from dawn till late
And will not tire so long as I am fuelled by my hate
I will not let his sour ugly face or bitter words
Weaken me or my resolve
I will hold my precious world and strive on towards
A future that does not him involve
But he would my conscience prick
I will not listen, I will not hear
Perhaps his spirits broken or he's sick
No, no do not explore that fear
I must be right, I must not doubt
If I am wrong, if I'm at fault
If this is all as much of my creation
The knowing it will bring damnation
So let him rot so long as I can stand
He wronged me and let that be an end
Lets have no talk or thought of love's redemption
And judge him by result and not intention
And such was the taste of the fruits of the tree of hate
Planted by the full moon to flower in the darkest night
Its fruits, eaten in despair when hope was not in sight,
Choked love and now leave us to our fate.
Building a Prison
Stay in hiding from my soul
Stay in hiding from the anger that i hold
don't hear the screaming of my heart
see only my bitter ugly face
and please
don't comfort me with love
its in the darkness that there's light
in deepest sorrow that there's hope
it is joy that calls the demons
and lets lose the shrieking crow
so please
don't touch me with your love
you may see me by the roadside
with my body limp and bleeding
but its the pain of passing strangers
that gives vigour to my soul
so please
don't be the Samaritan tonight
And brick by brick
I'll build my prison
without the barred window
and no light
and please
don't use your love to set me free
and when i'm gone forever from your life
and the memories are faded
burn the last remaining photograph
use white sage to set you free
and please
don't do any of this for me
TAKE ME TO A PLACE
Take me to a place where I can not feel
Where there are no reminders of who I am
Where I am no ones disappointment
No ones hope or guilt or fear
Take me to a place beyond the wracks of love
Where hope's daggers can not pain
Where dreams can not be conjured
And ugliness and beauty are the same
Take me to a place where kindness knows no home
Where cruelty despairs
Where joy is quite unknown
And time can not disturb (the impatience of my soul)
TREE OF HOPE
In the spring as the sun warms and the days grow
Bud break on your tree of hope will mark the passing
Of that winter that now casts cold shadow
Upon your lonely journey through the days
With the music of new life dancing in your ears
The ice mask shall surrender from your face
Your footsteps touch more lightly on the ground
As the shoots of hope abound
The trees that fell in autumn's storms
Now lie rotting upon the ground
Beneath the rampant surging beauty
Of the youthful forest floor
And you are the Elder, the mother of the magic moment
White scented florets in your hair
Nursing life to death and death to life
In the passing of the year
WHEN YOU STAND IN BLACK
WHEN YOU STAND IN BLACK
When you stand in black
By the hole cut deep in the turf
Will you be alone
Or will the little crowd be with you
Will the ritual words be sounds
Or will you know the silence
Will the box on which you fling some dirt
Be me, or just a box
Will you be the drama widow
Playing her tragic part
Or will it be another day and thing to do
For I was long long lost to you
Will you need to take that call
Or go and see your aunt
Or will you be comforted
By your sons, with yours the greater loss
At least your mind will not be cluttered
By thoughts of liberation
For that will be by then all granted
Sadness will not be tainted with joy
Its your graveside indifference I fear
It will make me feel so lonely
I could never abide indifference
Nor feel I deserved much more
